


Minutes of Arc

by Mitsuhachi



Category: Dragonlance - Weis and Hickman
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-07
Updated: 2008-04-07
Packaged: 2017-10-04 16:39:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mitsuhachi/pseuds/Mitsuhachi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dalamar has an information-kink. Raistlin sees no reason not to take advantage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Minutes of Arc

  
The first time he’s called into his Master’s private study, it takes his breath away. There are shelves to the ceiling over every wall, filled with the rarest tomes from his Master’s collection. There was a free-standing self-rotating model of the universe mapping out the movements of the moons tucked away in one corner. His master’s desk—a heavy valenwood thing that took up half the room—actually had a copy of Fistandantilus’s “On Time” open on it. It took every ounce of willpower Dalamar had to keep from trying to read the diagrams at once. He closed his eyes, curled his fingers into fists at his side, drew in a deep breath. Bony fingers drew up the length of his neck where his robes lay open, cool and dry. “Shalafi…” he breathed, voice low and pleading. He could feel his Master’s smirk against his skin; felt shame curl up around the want.

“Keep your eyes closed,” his Master whispered, drawing Dalamar forward until the sharp edge of the desk pressed into his thighs. He braced his hands on the desk for balance, felt the subsonic hum of sheer magical power radiating from the text between them and moaned. Shalafi’s hands slid further down the front of his robes, pushing them open, caressing the strong muscles in Dalamar’s chest. Dalamar hoped it galled him, choked on a cry as Shalafi took his cock in hand. “In the third measure, the orders move in retrograde, four and twenty minutes, and again in the fourth measure,” he heard his Master begin to read. Dalamar’s body tensed, mind leaping at the scraps of information and trying to make sense of them. Twenty-four minutes of ark? Or minutes as code for hours of the day? Or more of a riddle yet? The movement of Shalafi’s hand quickened, steady and demanding as Dalamar bucked and groaned and analyzed. “The fifth measure is the golden hour, calling back the others,” Shalafi curled his fingers further, long nails scraping fiery lines down his member and Dalamar choked back a scream and coated his Master’s hand with sticky white.

“You may take the book with you if you like,” Shalafi murmured, stepping away from the desk and letting Dalamar crumple over it’s top. He was wiping the semen on his hand onto the edges of the jade bowl he’d used to catch the rest, _smirking_ at him again. “And thank you for this—it’s troublesome to acquire it for myself.”


End file.
